


Addict With An Annoying Piano

by raging_storm



Series: Unfinished Works [2]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Fighting, Instrument Battle, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raging_storm/pseuds/raging_storm
Summary: Josh's eyes flicker open at two in the morning, and he pounds his fist on the bed. "Tyler, I swear to God, shut that thing up!"-When Josh moves into a dual-shared home, he encounters Tyler Joseph, who would be an ordinary neighbor if not for his habit of playing the piano late into the night.When he refuses to stop, Josh decides to get revenge in an interesting and creative way.





	Addict With An Annoying Piano

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back.
> 
> This is a thing now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want? Don't you know it's 2 AM?"
> 
> Josh feels a spurt of anger. "I could say the same thing."

His eyes flicker open at 2 AM, and his first thoughts are ones of confusion, followed by ones of recognition, and finally ones of anger.  _That's it,_ he thinks,  _I can't take it anymore._ One hand curls into a fist atop his bedspread, and he throws back the covers to sit up straight. Next door he hears the sound of a piano forcing its way through the thin divider that separates his house from his neighbor's.

His neighbor. 

When Josh first moved into the town house, the previous owner had sat him down over coffee and spilled the plain truth.

"Look, man," he said. "You're looking for a cheap place to live. And normally, it's stupid for a guy trying to sell his house to tell you something like what I'm going to tell you. But I like you, so I'm gonna say it."

The guy - Marcus - had leaned back in his chair and said, "The next door neighbor. Seems like everyone's got good neighbors, aye? Not this dude." He waited for Josh to say something about his story is far, and Josh obliged.

"What do you mean?" Elbows on the table, leaning forward, every inch a good listener, Josh was waiting to hear this story. 

A slight frown pulled at Marcus's face. "Guy's name is Tyler Joseph. Your neighbor, I mean."

Who else could he be referring to, but the man Josh would be living next door to soon, if luck was on his side? And it was. He had the money, he had the movers on call. He was ready to stop being the stereotypical lid that lives in their parents' basement.

"Let me just tell you something, Josh. The guy is a menace. And I'm serious. Every damn night, he drags out some old keyboard or something, and just plays. All night." Marcus took a sip of his coffee. Josh watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"So?" he remembered asking.

"So? You don't think that's annoying?"

Josh paused. "That has to be an exaggeration," he said carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was piss Marcus off and get him to call everything off. 

"It isn't. I swear to God, he plays that thing every night. He doesn't sleep. At least, I don't think he does."

And Josh snorted at that. "It'll be fine. If he really does do that, I can walk over there myself and ask him to stop. How hard can it be?"

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marcus sighed, waved a hand. "Whatever. I'm eager to get out of this place. It's a good old house, but if you really want it, I won't stop you."

They said nothing more of the annoying neighbor next door. Josh was just excited to finally close the deal. And close it they did, and soon Josh found himself amongst burly men in overalls moving boxes from his basement up into a van while he watched. 

An hour later, they were packed up. Not many of Josh's possessions would be going with him, just the stuff he deemed necessary; his video games consoles, his TV, his clothes, lots of batteries and a flashlight, an early housewarming gift of a couch, a camping bed, and a basic survival kit. The kit was unnecessary, but it was a relic of his past as a boy scout, so he packed it anyways. 

The rest of his stuff would remain at his parents' house; the useless stuff.

A week later he was shaking hands with Marcus in the townhouse parking lot, his own car parked in the designated space that was once Marcus'. He watched Marcus climb into a U-Haul and drive off, wheels skidding on the pavement, like he just couldn't wait to be free of the place. 

The house was his. All his. He was finally living on his own.

The victory was short-lived as he remembered all the problems that the house had; it needed a new fridge, the bathroom sink was chipped, and he was pretty sure the big window upstairs was cracked. But never mind that. Those problems could be tackled over time. 

He remembered introducing himself to the neighbor that same day. He'd gone over with a smile on his face, hands shoved casually in his jeans pockets, and introduced himself to the man Marcus had said was someone called Tyler Joseph. 

Joseph was cool enough. When Josh asked how old he was because he looked pretty young, he said he was twenty-six. Josh said neat, he was the same age, coincidentally. They made small-talk. Josh said he enjoyed hiking and playing the drums, what about you? That's when the piano was mentioned.

"I play the piano," Joseph had said.

Josh said it was cool. Everything's cool.

He doesn't think it's so cool now.

He has virtually nothing to complain about. With the steady salary he's paid from his job at Guitar Center, he's been able to fix the bathroom sink, buy a fridge, furnish his bedroom and living room, and repaint the kitchen. He received money from his parents and money from friends, and with what he had saved he was able to virtually erase any problems he had with the house. 

Except one.

The only problem remaining came in the form of a skinny dude with brown hair and an obnoxious tendency to play a piano at two in the morning.

Josh is pissed. It's been six months since he's been living here, and not once has he said anything about it. He hasn't complained, hasn't reported him. Hell, he hadn't even talked to Tyler Joseph since the day he introduced himself. Their paths never crossed.

But today is different. Today he's really angry. Maybe it's because all the incidents have built a dam, and now his fury is threatening to blow a hole in said dam.

He can't put words on it. He's just tired, frustrated, and he's going to go over there. Right now.

Josh throws on a random shirt on the floor. It'll serve. If this guy doesn't have the decency to shut up this late at night- or, this early in the morning, rather - then Josh doesn't give a damn about being presentable. Public decency goes out the window at 2 AM.

Putting on a pair of jeans, he makes his way out of his room and downstairs. The stairs creak, and the piano keeps playing. 

When he steps out the door, the first thing that hits him is the cold. It's freezing, and no wonder; it's November, almost December. He debates putting on a coat, then decides not to. His coat is upstairs in his room, and he's too lazy to go get it. Besides, this shouldn't take too long. He'll just pop down there, tell Tyler Joseph to please be quiet, please and thank you, and go back to bed.

Josh makes his way down the porch steps and crosses the wet grass over to the townhouse next door. It's connected to his own, separated only by that thin wall that could probably break if he hit if half as hard as he could. He walks up steps identical to his own, faces a brown door identical to his own, and rings a doorbell that makes a sound identical to his own.

The piano makes a sudden stop, and the silence is the best sound Josh has ever heard. He hears footsteps approaching the door, soft and slow. 

He only has just enough time to realize that he's an introvert standing in the cold at 2 AM, and his courage and anger is ebbing away, before the door is thrown wide open.

"Don't you know it's 2 AM?" 

Those are the first words out of Tyler Joseph's mouth, and Josh is stunned. And angry, too. 

"I could say the same thing." The retort bursts out before he can stop it, and he instantly regrets it. Josh is a nice guy. He doesn't fight. He's just here to ask politely for Joseph to stop making so much noise. 

_Shit._

Tyler's eyes narrow. "What do you want...Josh?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"What do you want, Josh?" He sounds impatient, he's drumming his fingers on the door frame he clutches in one hand. 

He has no right to be angry. He's the one disturbing the peace. 

No fucking decency.

Josh clears his throat. "Look, can you keep it down, please?"

"Keep what down?" Tyler seems completely perturbed, which irks Josh, and fuels him to suppress the feelings inside him that are telling him to just walk away and tough it out.

"The piano," Josh says, struggling to keep his annoyance in check. "It's kind of loud, and I'm trying to sleep next door. Can you please keep it down?"

Tyler could just say sure and move on. It's his fault, anyways. Who plays an instrument this late? Who's even  _up_ this late?

Josh waits for Tyler to say  _Sure,_ but it never comes. Instead, Tyler just blinks. "You're joking, right?"

Josh wants to scream. He doesn't. "No."

"You came over here at 2 AM to tell me to keep it down? You serious, dude?"

It's all Josh can do to not reach and and wrap his hands around Tyler's skinny neck, and choke the shit out of him. "Dude," he says back, calmly. White noise washes out his ears. "I'm just asking you to play a little quieter, that's all. No biggie."

It could be over. It's so easy to say "Yes". It's what any decent person would do.

Evidently, Tyler Joseph is not a decent person. "Please don't bother me again," he says after a moment of silence.

"Wait-" Josh reaches out to grab the door, which is starting to close in his face, but Tyler's quicker. The door slams loudly, and Josh jumps back to avoid having his finger crushed.

"Asshole," he snarls, but there's nothing but a wooden door to hear.

Fuming, he debates knocking again, or ringing the doorbell repeatedly until Tyler comes back, _anything_ , but thinks better of it. He'll just have to tough it out, and salvage what little of the morning he has left to sleep before work.

Work. He sighs. It's going to be another long day trudging through Guitar Center, helping customers find what they need, standing behind a register. Not to say he doesn't love his job; he does. He gets to be around instruments, even play them on his breaks, he has a good salary and fair hours, good co-workers. And Mark Eshleman is probably the most chill boss in the world, with his hoodies and laid-back management routines. But work is a hundred times more difficult when he's running on five hours of sleep.

Josh makes his way back to his house, shivering. He should've put on a coat. If there's one good thing from this morning, it's that he didn't lock himself out of his house. He thanks the Lord for that as he kicks off his shoes and trudges back upstairs.

His alarm clock reads 2:37. Somehow he had spent half an hour over there, yet had only exchanged a few sentences. 

It felt like forever, truth be told.

Eyes heavy, he pulls the covers up over his head and curls into a ball to keep warm.

Of course, now he can't sleep. And Tyler must have finally gone to bed, he doesn't hear the piano playing. Laughter bubbles in his throat,  hysterically laughter of someone on the cusp of insanity. Is he going insane? That's what six months of sleep-deprivation will do to you. 

He drifts off eventually to the sound of traffic in the distance accompanied by the blissful sound of silence. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back in the game.


End file.
